Dissolution
by Fierceawakening
Summary: Post-AHM 12, if AHM 12 had ended with Starscream leaving Megatron for dead. What happens when Megatron, repaired and refreshed, pays a visit to Starscream - and how their long rivalry ends. Rated M for violence, possible character death, etc.


Starscream zoomed toward the outcropping, his engines screeching in irritation.

At first, he'd been pleased. The unthinkable had finally happened: Megatron had fallen. He had bid the others leave the warlord for dead, and they had obeyed. None of them had challenged him. None had rushed to the aid of the one who had led them for so long.

As loyal as some of the Decepticons had been, it really wasn't surprising. Megatron himself had preached it to them: the rise of the strong and the fall of the weak. They had flocked to his banner - the forgotten, the beaten - all hoping to rise. And under him, they had.

So when the unthinkable had happened and the one who had forged them, had tempered them, had made them beautiful and deadly and strong, finally fell, it was only right to leave him. Better for their savior to die exalted than to be coddled into living.

And it had left Starscream in control, finally, after so many vorns of being so close he could taste it...

Oh, it hadn't happened the way he'd wanted. He had never planned on simply assuming command because someone had to, without fanfare and without praise. He'd wanted to defeat Megatron in battle, preferably with the others gathered around, gasping in awe as the titan who'd led them for so many vorns finally fell to him and him alone.

Still, he couldn't feel too cheated. Power was power, after all.

No sooner, however, had he attained that power than the problems had begun. Endless annoyances, a steady stream of petty minor matters that absolutely demanded - or so his supposed followers claimed - the attention of the newly-ordained Tyrant of the Firmament.

Like the communique from Skywarp he was even now winging in to answer, as if the Lord of All Decepticons didn't have better things to do than come winging in every time his lookout noticed an unusual rock.

Starscream had realized quickly enough that most of his sentry's "urgent reports" were pranks, but knowing that only made them more maddening. If he responded to them, he looked like a fool in front of the very mechs who were supposed to quake in awe of him. If he didn't, he had to endure snickering behind his back about how little attention the glorious new leader paid to what went on outside his base.

"Skywarp, I thought I told you I wasn't to be disturbed unless it was important. You know you are supposed to tell me exactly what you find out here."

"I understand, my lord. But you wouldn't have believed me if I told you who's down there."

"What in the galaxy are you talking about?" the other answered, transforming. "Who could possibly -?"

Then he looked down.

"Megatron," he shrilled, his cry high and piercing. The others muttered to themselves, and hastened to gather around, watching. Megatron smiled.

"Hello, Starscream. Don't look so surprised to see me. Surely you, of all mechs, know me well enough to realize it takes more than one lucky hit to deactivate me."

The wide optics narrowed into a sneer as the other recovered his composure. "I'm not an idiot, Megatron. Of course I suspected you might still be alive. What did you do, beg the Autobots for repairs?" He laughed. "If so, you've come a long way from the mech who taught us to disdain the weak and to seize our destinies for ourselves. A long way down."

Megatron merely smirked. "And you think you've seized yours? By flying off and taking command by default? Really, Starscream, I expected more from you. I never would have made you my second if I thought you'd squander your potential like -"

"Enough!" the Seeker howled, gritting his dental plates, his null rays trained on Megatron. "I'm sure you realize there are many of us, and only one of you. Give me one good reason I shouldn't order every one of us to vaporize you while you stand."

"You could do so," Megatron answered. "Who knows. They might even obey your order." He shrugged. "But you wouldn't be content with that, would you, Starscream? Surely your dreams of ascension, so carefully rehearsed over so many vorns, amount to more than simply ordering someone else to shoot me down.

"You want to fight me, Starscream, and win, and know that the others mean it when they call you their lord. So do it. You wanted, vorns ago, to fight in my arena. I refused to let you. Now you have your chance to win a real fight, the fight you've always wanted. So take it.

"Besides," the warlord continued, chuckling, "I know you well enough to know you still can't disobey me, not yet. And my order is this: _come down_."

With a wild, incoherent shriek, Starscream launched himself at Megatron.

Megatron smirked. While the Seeker sped toward him, blinded by his own anger, the warlord aimed his cannon and fired.

Starscream swerved to avoid the blast. It singed one wing, and the Seeker howled in pain and anger. But however much it hurt, it didn't slow him down. Megatron didn't mind. If that shot had done anything more, he would have been disappointed.

Starscream wheeled above him, circling and firing. The shots were easy enough to avoid. But, just as he had done, the other wasn't intending to do damage yet.

"You wanted a lieutenant who could fly," the Seeker taunted, dodging blasts from Megatron's cannon. "You got someone who's lighter and faster than you. Not very regal dancing around down there, are you, mighty Megatron?"

"And you think you're effective up there? There is nothing more you can do up there than down here. Even if you hit me, do you really expect it to do me any harm?"

Starscream cursed. Megatron was right. He would have to get closer. Except that if he did, he lost his advantage. His engine whined his irritation. He hadn't come this far only to let the warlord force him to fight on his terms.

The Seeker circled again, just barely wheeling closer. Just as he expected, the warlord transformed his hand, sending the glowing purple flail that emerged spinning toward the wing that danced just barely out of its reach.

"You're still too slow, mighty Megatron," he taunted, knowing that the rest of his kind were watching, impressed. It was fitting that he prove too fast. Megatron had raised them up, had tempered them into the living weapons, fierce and elegant, that they had become. But he had served his purpose, and his time was over now.

The thought gave Starscream purpose. He was surprised to realize he'd never had it before. Oh, he had had ambition, the fierce flame of his spark kindling to the thought of triumph. He'd always known he was competent, intelligent, as quick in mind as he was in the air. And he'd always known that Megatron knew it, the crimson optics staring not merely with their usual disdain, but also with a carefully hidden pride. Megatron had meant to raise up the best, and Starscream was the best of those under him. But to truly be the best of the best meant to depose Megatron, someday.

He'd always intended to do it. He'd never been subtle about his intention to try. And he'd always known his leader had faults. How could he not, when he'd set it upon himself to so thoroughly catalogue them? But until now, he had never felt certain those faults would ever truly add up to the other's downfall. Now, he could see it, sense it, feel it throbbing in the center of his spark, like remembered desire. We are done, he thought, accelerating for another pass.

Megatron watched Starscream's revolutions, amused. Sooner or later, the younger mech would get overeager or overconfident or both, and when he did, he'd get too close. Megatron had seen it over and over, and this time would prove no different. He twirled his flail almost playfully, preparing for his moment.

Starscream howled, a wail from his vocalizer and his engines alike as he swerved suddenly, swooping closer to get a better shot in. With a severe grin, Megatron swung the flail for real, catching the Seeker in the wing and knocking him off course.

Megatron snarled as the shot went wide enough to miss his chest, but not wide enough to miss his other arm. A white-hot pain shot through it and then a numbness as the beam from the null ray paralyzed it. It hung, limp and aching and all but useless, at the warlord's side. He scowled. Losing the use of his cannon was not a good thing.

Then again, watching Starscream careen toward him, he realized it hadn't been so bad a trade after all. With one wing badly damaged, the Seeker could no longer balance in the air. That brought the fight to the ground, taking away Starscream's most important advantage. And as fond as Megatron was of his cannon, he had risen to his place as Lord of the arena long before he had ever installed it.

Starscream chuckle, despite his struggle to right himself. How fitting, he thought, that his blast had rendered Megatron incapable of using his cannon, the cannon he himself had given Megatron so many vorns ago. That weapon had shored up one of the many vulnerabilities Starscream had noticed. It was only fitting that Starscream should be the one to take that tool away.

Unable to stop his wild spinning without a way to stabilize his wing, he screeched and fired his thrusters, setting himself on a direct collision course with the other mech. Very well, he thought. If they had to fight hand-to-hand, Starscream would use the injury to his advantage.

Megatron planted his feet, hoping his heavier and larger frame could withstand the impact, but lost his balance as the other careened into him quickly - too quickly! - and the two of them went skidding over the rocks, which tore painfully into Megatron's back.

It made no difference to Megatron. The pain invigorated him, sending a thrill though his spark, kindling his passion for battle as the other glared down at him, twitching a ruined and smoking wing. He clenched his dental plates in a feral grin. "Come on..."

Fists, light but damnably fast, pounded into the plating over his chest over and over again, then, not having the effect they wanted, bent into claws, grabbing at the edges of the plating and tearing.

More pain. Megatron welcomed it, his own great hands reaching behind his opponent's back and tearing at anything they could find. He no longer remembered who he was fighting, or why. There was only himself and his rival and the fierce intensity of the only goal he knew, the only goal that mattered: destroying this one and savoring the power it gave him.

Twisting in determination and pain as some part of him tore free that wasn't supposed to, with a blinding searing agony and a shower of bright sparks, he brought up his knee and kicked, hard, the motion fueled by vorns of pent-up rage, vorns of the intention to destroy - this one, this one in particular, someone he suddenly remembered through the mist of his vehemence - giving him a sudden and terrible strength.

The blow hurled Starscream through the air and he landed hard on the ground near Megatron. Fighting the shock of pain through his back and ruined wing, the Seeker focused on one thing only: getting to his feet. But before he could manage it, something heavy and bright as a burning lavender sun smashed into his cockpit.

Glass shattered and metal crumpled and Starscream fell, keening as much from anger as from pain as he looked up to find the other looming over him, the flail gleaming with energy, bright as the fierce red optics staring down at him.

Starscream half sat up, his smashed chest aching terribly. "My lord," he gasped, his high voice cracking from the pain, hating himself for saying those words rather than simply staring ahead and dying with honor. Why, when he had finally done it, had finally challenged the other and meant it and lost, was some part of him grasping for his life? He didn't know.

He looked up at the other in dazed wonder, no longer knowing what would happen because he no longer understood himself. He heard himself talking, spinning lies because he always had, falling into the old groove of an old speech, comfortable and meaningless. "I never realized you had survived," he heard himself say. "Someone had to lead them if you were dead..."

He knew as soon as the words escaped him that they were the wrong ones, that the old rules no longer applied.

There was a moment of hesitation from the other - it felt like a vorn, compressed and compacted into a second -

- and then the words "No, Starscream, not this time," spoken almost gently -

- and then the pain, the terrible collisions, over and over, as the brilliant spike-studded sun on its chain swung once, again, every part of Starscream bending or folding or caving in as he watched from somewhere far outside himself, as if this wasn't even happening, not to him, Megatron would never -

- and then his optics, wide in their disbelief and agony, flickering and dying and his audios filling, somehow, not with the screams he was making but the static from his torn cabling and then -

- nothing.

Megatron stood over the twisted metal for a long time, standing perfectly still and frowning, watching it spark, quickly at first and then more slowly, the light growing dimmer by the moment. Then he raised his head and walked toward the outcropping where the others stood watching silently.

"Uh, boss?" Rumble finally said, his voice meek. "Shouldn't you make sure he's dead?"

"No," Megatron answered. "If he survives that, he deserves to live."

"But he betrays you all the time. If he lives, he'll be stronger - and more set on it than ever."

"Stronger, yes. Set on betraying me again? No, I don't think so. He fought me because he knew he couldn't win and hated himself for his own lack of strength. This fight with me was the one and only time he has ever challenged me honestly. This fight was the only time he truly tested his own mettle and learned the true extent of his resolve.

"If he does live, I do not know how this will change him. But I know he will be nothing like what he once was - and I know him well enough to know that whatever he becomes will not hold this against me. Whatever he becomes will understand."

His optics narrowed and he glared at the assembled Decepticons. "If he survives. And by that I mean if he survives on his own. Anyone caught out here seeking to aid him will not get the chance at life I grant him."

The warlord turned his optics to the others, catching and holding each of his followers' gazes before turning to the next one. "Any who try to tip the balance in favor of his survival will be melted down alive."


End file.
